


Death Doesn't Discriminate

by TornThorn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (Tony Goes to See Hamilton), Alcohol, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hamilton References, Hints of Almost Alcoholic Tony Stark, Ho Yinsen - Freeform, Hurt Tony Stark, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) Feels, Lin-Manuel Miranda is an Amazing Lyricist, Obadiah Stane - Freeform, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Previous Pepper Potts/Tony Stark - Freeform, Previous Sunset Bain/Tony Stark, Previous Tony Stark/Tiberius Stone, Spoilers for MCU up to CA:CW, That Damn Siberian Bunker and the Bullshit that Went Down There, Tony Stark Character Study, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, also mentioned:, not quite a song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 05:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TornThorn/pseuds/TornThorn
Summary: When Pepper cancels a we-can-still-be-friends date, Tony decides to go to the planned event on his own. He just didn't expect the show to hit him so hard, or for the person next to him in the theatre to be so understanding.AKA the "Tony Stark Sees Hamilton" fic that no one asked for.





	Death Doesn't Discriminate

****Tony didn't remember much about the day. He knew Pepper had cancelled on another tentative, we-can-still-be-friends date, and he knew he'd finished an exhaustingly long day talking to the current Accords Committee via skype, and he knew that he had promised Rhodey when his friend called that Tony would actually go to the show, even if Pepper didn't. He was pretty sure he had downed a few drinks in the back of the town car on the way over, trying to numb the self-pity he was nursing.

And now he was seated in the middle of a packed theatre, watching a surprisingly diverse group play out the struggles of the Founding Fathers using rap and hip hop, and it was a novel take. It was different and fresh and that Miranda guy was good at this.

Then a line came out of nowhere, punched him right in the gut. It felt like fire heating up a rudimentary metal suit, and sweat running down between his shoulder blades, and blood in his mouth from biting his cheek while he prayed to a god he didn't believe in that something would work. It felt like watching a man he considered a savior, a friend, more of a father in a few months than Howard had been in seventeen years, grabbing a gun and charging out into danger while he could do nothing but stand and wait.

And there was also a friendly, cajoling voice in his ear, a reassuring clap on his shoulder, and then the words "golden goose" and being paralyzed and pain in his chest. There were years of support and comfort stolen in a few devastating minutes, an utter destruction of trust and the foundation of believing you are loved ripped away. Hearing that same voice mock him, cut short with a whine and screech as the voice was stopped forever.

Had he ever actually let himself mourn for either man?

“ _Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes. And we keep living anyway…_ ”

He didn't realize he was crying until the stranger next to him, eyes wide with recognition, reached into her tiny clutch and pulled out a small pack of disposable tissues. She didn't say anything, just waited silently until he took them, then turned her focus resolutely back toward the stage, giving him a false sense of privacy.

The show kept going, and Tony rushed to wipe up his face, then shoved the tissues into his jacket pocket, as though he could hide his reaction by hiding the proof of his tears. He followed the woman's example and aimed his attention at the stage, trying to fall back into the mildly detached enjoyment with which he had started the play.

When intermission came, he waited for her to say something, mention Iron Man or Tony Stark or the Avengers or any of the million other highly public pieces of his life. Instead, she pulled out her program and made sure not to look his way as she quietly said, "It's the end, for me."

Confused, he darted a glance her way and made a simple questioning noise, "Hm?"

"There's a spot," she explained, "right at the end, with Eliza. I'll admit, there are a few parts that leave me emotional, but there's one line in particular. _Can I show you what I'm proudest of? I establish the first private orphanage in New York City._ Every single time I've listened to the soundtrack, that line played and I started bawling. Ugly crying, with snot and tears and having a hard time breathing." She offered him a small, sideways smile, then her eyes dropped back to the program, although he could tell from the way they stayed still that she wasn't reading, simply staring. Her jaw clenched for a mere moment before she quietly offered, "If you wanted my sob story, I'd explain that I was adopted. That that line rings through me every time like a damn church bell. I think everyone has one."

Tony turned his chair to finally take her in. Her dress was nice, but had clearly been worn before, enough times to make the fabric softer and the color a little less bright. A poofing halo of dark curls surrounded an oval face with wide cheekbones and a prominent nose. Her dark skin was set off beautifully by the flowing gown in an understated red. She wore a simple wedding band on the hand that had begun to pick at the corner of the program in her lap.

"Has one what?" he asked.

Peering quickly over, she saw his change in demeanor, tried to subtly take a deep breath (which just made Tony wonder that he apparently still intimidated people) and then mirrored his position, meeting his eyes dead on. "Some of the lyrics or dialogue that just hits all the wrong or right buttons, that reminds you that life is life, good or bad. For my wife, it's when Alexander finds out Laurens has been killed. We kind of ran across an illegal copy of the scene online, since it's not on the soundtrack.

"They don't really do more than give it a wink and nod in the play, and there are a lot of scholars, old, straight white guys-" She paused and took in who she was talking to, before stuttering, "I don't mean-"

He waved her off, an involuntary chuckle reaching his lips, "No, no, I get it. They are historically shitty. I'm a futurist, I know the world's changing, that it has to change and adapt and get better, but that can be rare in people with the power to make those changes who like the status quo. Go on," he prompted.

"Right," she nodded. "There's academics who insist that, like Thomas Jefferson having descendants by an enslaved woman, Sally Hemings, it's all a conspiracy by liberals to destroy the work of the Founding Fathers. But there's a lot of suggestive letters from Hamilton to Laurens that hint at a possible romantic attachment. And so, for her, the moment Hamilton hears of his death… it breaks her, a little. She was in the closet for years, only came out to her parents after we got engaged, and I think she was terrified when we were dating that she'd lose me, and no one would know that we were in love."

Hesitantly, Tony reached out and lightly touched her hand, trying to offer some sort of reassurance. She caught his fingers and turned to grip them tight for a moment, releasing them as she smiled, brighter than before. "It's a shock, like jumping into cold water. And you don't know what to do, so your body reacts with tears."

Chuckling and nodding, Tony pulled the rest of the unused pack of tissues out of his pocket and offered it back to her.

She smiled. "Thanks, I'm gonna need those."

Offering a hand, he said, "I'm Tony." Then winced and started to draw the hand back. "Which you probably already know."

Rather than scoff, she shook his hand, grip firm and confident. "Nyala Jones-Desai."

"It's an actual pleasure to meet you, Nyala," Tony admitted.

Which was when the lights began to flicker, signaling that the intermission was nearly up. With a shared smile, they let the conversation end in preparation of the play's return.

This time, Tony paid close attention to the show and could understand why it was so universally beloved. There were so many strong themes running through it, so many stories weaving through that of Hamilton.

The song where Burr and Hamilton both sang to their children was another gut punch, and Tony felt his hands curl into helpless fists as the weight of missing JARVIS hit him all over again.

Hamilton going “ _non stop_ ” was like watching himself on an inventing or engineering binge, so much out ahead of him, his brain running faster than his hands could move, so much to be done with no time to do it.

Things slowed down for Tony when Washington announced his plans to leave the presidency. And Tony was proud when he heard the wish to “ _sit under my own vine and fig tree, a moment alone in the shade. At home in the nation we’ve made_.” He found himself almost jealous, and hoping that Washington had done a better job than Tony ever managed at retirement.

During the song where Eliza and Angelica both asked Hamilton to join them on vacation, he couldn’t help leaning over to Nyala and muttering, incredulous, “Did they just offer him a threesome? And he said _no_ because he was too busy writing about politics?”

She shushed him, but her lips were covered up in an amused smile.

Then Maria appeared on the scene, and Tony felt his whole body go still. His relationships had never been normal, that was a fact of life when you grew up as the heir to Stark Industries. And everything about the woman, up to and including the hilariously on-the-nose red dress she wore, reminded him starkly of Tiberius Stone and Sunset Bain. (Hell, he’d been even worse at falling in love back then…) When the blackmail plot was revealed, Tony just rolled his eyes and nearly called this historical figure an amateur.

And then everything started to go downhill, one problem after another. The Reynolds Pamphlet was a surprise, and Tony wanted to mock, but then hadn’t he revealed his own failings to the entire world in one press conference after another, starting with that gathering of paparazzi piranhas just _hours_ after he had gotten back from Afghanistan? Hamilton lost support and his spot in politics, but even worse he’d broken the heart of an amazing woman. (Pepper. God, he hoped she didn’t despise him the way Eliza had despised her husband. Please say she never sat alone, after she broke it off, wishing they had never met.)

And then Philip, proud of a father who didn’t deserve it and dying to defend that flawed man. Tony watched the duel, terrified, and when the bullet hit he jolted in his seat. JARVIS had died protecting him from something Tony had created. Philip died protecting his father from an affair and gossip that Hamilton had caused. The parallels hurt. Eliza tried to count with Philip, and Tony heard that familiar British voice in his head, clear as that first day, asking for a name.

( _“What designation shall I answer to, sir?” “JARVIS. Just a Rather, Very Intelligent System. And after Edwin Jarvis, the best man I’ve ever known.” A moment of silence and then, almost bashful, “Thank you for giving me a designation with emotional attachment, sir. It is reassuring that, to you, I am more than lines of code.” “Of course you’re more than that! You’re a fucking miracle.” “I don’t have sufficient data on miracles, but I do find that, historically, I am the first of my kind. Something which, in turn, can be described as miraculous.” “…thank you, JARVIS.” “For what, sir?” “Existing.”_ )

Eliza was right to stop talking to Hamilton after that fuck up. It’s Quiet Uptown passed in a daze. Most of the political rallying did the same. It just seemed unimportant, compared to the loss of their child. And then the Burr-Hamilton duel-

Alexander aimed at the sky. A monologue filled the sudden silence. Tony was back in a bunker in Siberia, in the cold and the hushed quiet, reviewing his life, seeing every failure again, seeing himself trying to set things right and just making it all worse over and over until thinking maybe he’d found the fix to set things straight, only to be told he was wrong.

Remembering a friend looking him in the eye and delivering a blow that, for all it was emotional instead of physical, hit with force. Remembering losing himself in his fury.

12 hours, beaten and alone in a bunker to consider his entire damn life.

“ _I’m running out of time, I’m running and my time’s up… I catch a glimpse of the other side._ ”

A team of soldiers, led by Vision, arrived eventually. By then, Tony was resigned to his fate, resigned to dying there, alone and in pain and betrayed, again. It was whiplash to realize he would live. It burned to discover he would have to keep going, have to rebuild, have to face the mess they had all left behind.

“ _Wait!_ ”

Falling back into the play’s narrative was jarring. And Burr’s grief and anger at himself, his admittance that the “ _world was wide enough…_ ” It was still too soon for Tony to think back to that fight in the bunker and really believe that, but he could start here. He could face it here, and maybe by the time they needed the old team (Because they would. Whatever was up there, aiming for Earth, would arrive sooner or later.) he could say it and mean it.

Finally, just as she predicted, when they got to the end and began detailing what Eliza had done with the rest of her long life, they mentioned the orphanage and his new friend quietly gasped as tears streaked down her face. He offered her his hand and, with the one not using a tissue to dab at her face, she clutched his fingers tightly as the musical came to an end.

As the cast took their bows and Tony and Nyala rose to applaud, they both did their best to sniffle and get themselves back together.

After those minutes, passed, when people began to file out, Tony turned to Nyala and asked, “So, where _is_ the wife tonight?”

Nyala sighed, but her eyes were soft. “Jaya had a business dinner she couldn’t get out of. She told me to just go, and by the time I thought to see if any of our friends wanted to come I was already in the cab on the way here.” She seemed hesitant before returning the query, “And Miss Potts?”

Tony fought not to grimace. “We’re, uh, not really…” He tried to think of a better explanation, before huffing. “She dumped me.”

At Nyala’s surprise and then worried look, he waved her concern away. “It was a very nice, responsible dumping. And we both knew it was coming, just too stubborn to admit either of us had failed at something, you know?”

That caused a nod. “My high school boyfriend,” she offered, shaking her head ruefully. “We were so convinced we would last through college, even though we ended up on opposite sides of the country. It took us nearly two years to finally call it off.”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, pointing at her. “Now, I’m craving food that’s terrible for me. How do you feel about Burger King?”

Nyala paused and gave him a long, careful look. He shrunk into himself, just a little, expecting a polite brush off, as she no doubt was considering everything she had ever read or heard about him, and was delightfully surprised when she smirked. “I prefer Five Guys, but I suppose just this once. They have a good chicken sandwich, at least.”

Tony sniffed and put on a false haughty air. “How dare you besmirch the name of the nation’s most popular fast food establishment-”

“Pretty sure that’s McDonald’s,” she interrupted with a giggle.

He continued as though she hadn’t said a word. “-and suggest their dry, unappetizing _chicken_ abominations are the pinnacle of their menu when they have exquisite burgers readily available.”

She was laughing now, tears forgotten compared to the absurdity in front of her. Tony grinned back, making a quick call to his driver while she sent off a text to her wife of where she would be and with whom.

It took them less than five minutes, once they’d climbed into the town car, to reach the nearest Burger King. And while the driver looked at them like they were crazy for their choice of meals, the folks behind the counter, in their ugly polyester clothes and baseball caps, didn’t even blink as two people dressed to the nines (one a famous celebrity) came in and joined the waiting line until they could place their orders. He loved New York City.

They took a seat by a window as they waited for their numbers to be called, and Tony asked to hear more about Jaya. With a wide, bright smile, Nyala happily bragged about her amazing wife. By the time their meals were brought out, the pair were laughing together about the story of the four separate, failed attempts of Jaya to propose before events conspired in her favor.

And Tony let himself put away all the emotions the musical had stirred up. Later he would pull them back out and exam them. He would buy the soundtrack and listen to it all the way through, let himself feel everything again, and maybe sit in his workshop and cry.

Then he would go back to work and do what always made him proudest - find a way to bring a better future just a little bit closer to the now.

For the moment, however, he would live _in_ the moment and enjoy a nice night with a new friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp, I cried my way through finishing this up. I have a lot of Tony feels, specifically Tony being betrayed or losing everyone he cares about while sinking into self loathing feels. But my BFF says it ends well. So enjoy, I guess?


End file.
